Intelligence Quotient
by Lily of the Shadow
Summary: A person's intelligence quotient measures thier mental ability against thier peers. Her's is 192. But it takes more than intelligence to be a CSI in Las Vegas... Permanent Hiatus due to Suckage
1. Act 1: Part i: Saturday Night 9 PM

Tell me what you think. First CSI fic, may or may not be continued, depending on reviewer response. Please reserve judgment until the end, okay? Then you may complain to your hearts content for my wasting your time. Enjoy!

Props to Korimi-sama for poking me until I posted this. Not that she really knows she was poking me, but nonetheless… sooo… props! ((BTW: Yeah, this was the monster I was talking about...))

* * *

"I've got some good news and some bad news."

Grissom had gathered his forensics team in is office and was sitting behind his desk, a frown on his face. He wasn't happy.

"Good news first." Catharine said, wondering what one earth would have Grissom looking worried. She braced herself for a sarcastic 'my mistake, no good news'.

"We're getting a new team member. Her specialty is DNA, blood work, and other laboratorial procedures, but she also has a firm background in just about every other forensics subject possible, including historical forensics and cold-case files." Grissom explained.

"So what's the bad news?" Greg asked. "That sounds like pretty good news to me, what kind of downside could it have?"

"Her name is Lillian James."

Sarah's eyebrows rose. "Dr. James!" She asked. "Dr. James is working _here_?"

"You know of her?" Warrick asked. Sarah shrugged.

"You don't?" She retorted. "Dr. James is only the smartest human being on this planet!"

"I wouldn't go that far." Catharine said. "But she is intelligent. Warrick, this girl has a doctorate in forensics, a Liberal Arts degree, and a degree in Criminal Psychology."

"So? Lots of people have that."

"At 15?"

"WHAT!"

Grissom watched his companion's fuss over the incoming CSI. Admittedly, he didn't like the idea any more than they did. A mere child? Actually doing field work, working in the lab? _Their_ lab?

"Guys, calm down. She start's Monday, I expect you to be on your best behavior." Grissom said, as though speaking to children. He returned to some paperwork regarding their present case, clearly dismissing them.

"This will be interesting. I hope my manly charms don't distract her in the lab." Greg boasted, puffing out his chest and grinning. Sarah rolled her eyes.

"Dream on, Romeo. You're 25, and she's a minor."

"Come on, Sarah, you're the only girl for me." Greg winked. Sarah merely rolled her eyes again.

"Do you have that sample tested yet?"

"Sure do." Greg went to print up the report.

* * *

"What do you think of all this?" Catherine asked as she and Warrick processed a wreck of a car. "Blood on the passenger rear bucket seat."

"I'm on it. Not sure. It seems a bit odd, but if she's qualified… Hand me that brush."

"Here. And I know, but still… She has no field experience, and she's awfully young. I'm worried she'll be worse than Greg when _he_ started."

"That could be bad. Hey, straw! Didn't Johnson say he's never been to a farm?"

"He did, didn't he? Send it to trace and cross your fingers it matches the straw found in the vic."

* * *

"Grissom." Grissom picked up the phone in his office.

"Hello, sir. This is Lillian James, we've not spoken yet. I'm supposed to be starting work this Monday?" a young female voice said. Grissom winced slightly. She sounded awfully weak-spirited.

"Ah, yes, Dr. James. Is there a problem?"

"No, sir. I was just wondering if it would be acceptable for me to come in early, just to acquaint myself with the laboratory, the building, the people…"

"You should really speak with Brass about this." Grissom shuffled through some papers, confused at her call.

"You're my immediate superior, sir." Lillian stated plaintively.

"I have no problem with it." Grissom said as he grimaced. His team probably would.

"Thank you, sir. I'll see you in an hour." There was a click, then a dial tone. Grissom stared at the phone for a moment before hanging up. He pinched the bridge of his nose before returning to the printouts before him.

* * *

"Can I help you, Miss?"

"Lillian James, I start work officially in two days. I'm here to meet with my supervisor briefly."

"Ah, yes. You've been expected. You have your CSI ID, correct?" Lillian responded by pinning the plastic card to her lapel with a sheepish grin. The secretary nodded.

"Second door on the right."

"Thank you, ma'am."

Lillian turned and took a deep breath. It was intimidating being the youngest person in an entire building, but she brushed the feeling off. Five years in college at anywhere from ten to fifteen years younger than the next youngest person there wasn't for nothing.

She double-checked her hair in the glass, assuring herself that it wasn't falling out if it's strict bun, her scarf was neatly positioned, ID straight. She nodded to herself before knocking on the door labeled 'Grissom".

"Come in." She heard. She nodded once more to herself before opening the door, stepping in, and closing it behind her.

"Dr James, I presume?" Grissom stood up. Lillian moved forward to shake his hand firmly before seating herself in front of the desk.

"I'd like to ask you a few questions, sir. For example, who will I be working most directly with?"

"Greg Sanders." Mentally, Lillian frowned. Outwardly, she retained a stoic mask of indifference.

"I'd like to meet him prior to my first day."

Grissom stood. "Follow me." He led her to the lab, mentally sighing when he noticed Greg's less than professional behavior. He entered and pushed the pause button in the CD player. Greg looked up from his 'drumming'.

"Grissom. I have that report." He grinned winningly. Grissom shook his head, eyes closed. "Greg, Dr. James. Dr. James, Greg." And he left. Lillian raised an eyebrow.

"Pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mr. Sanders." She said, glancing at his name tag and then turning her gaze to the confused man.

"Umm… same here?" Greg looked her up and down. Dressed in a beige suit accented with a crimson scarf and ruby jewelry, Lillian looked like she belonged in a magazine photograph, not in a laboratory.

"I wasn't aware," Lillian began, walking around and inspecting the equipment, "that I would be working with someone so immature. Honestly, death metal does not belong in a laboratory."

"That wasn't death metal!"

"Whatever. I'll expect you to behave more professionally when I start work." Lillian eyed his messy desk.

"Greg! Where did that report go!" Sarah swung her head into the room. "Who's that?"

"Dr. Lillian James." Lillian said, turning around. Sarah's eyes widened in surprise.

"Dr James, I thought you weren't coming in until Monday?"

"I'm just touring, so to speak. You realize you left a pencil on the floor? Safety hazard, Mr. Sanders. You should be ashamed."

Greg blushed slightly. Sarah raised an eyebrow.

"Look, Dr. James, you do realize that Greg is your partner, so to speak. You shouldn't—"

"With all due respect, ma'am, stuff it. I refuse to tolerate substandard or hazardous work conditions." Lillian said, setting her briefcase on the floor next to the desk, out of the way. He reached out a hand. "But I don't believe in being on bad terms with my co-workers either. I didn't catch your name?"

"Sarah." She replied, taking the hand. Lillian frowned.

"Any last name?" Lillian didn't notice her tag right away, as it was clipped to the bottom of her t-shirt.

"Formalities only get in the way. This is a fast paced business, you need to know your co-workers, _Lillian_."

Lillian looked affronted and bristled slightly before nodding. She knelt to pick up her briefcase.

"I have matters to attend to this evening. Nice meeting you, _Sarah_." She nodded at Greg. "_Greg_." With that she walked out of the room.

"Think I offended her?" Sarah asked, not the least bit worried.

"She acts like she owns the place." Greg said before handing Sarah the report she had come for and turning his music back on.

"Indeed she does act like that. We'll see how she reacts under pressure." Sarah barely fought back a smirk.

* * *


	2. Act 2: Part i: Monday Night 8:30 PM

I'm very pleased that this has been so well received! I was expecting maybe two reviews saying 'I lik this, plz go on!'(The 'lik' was spelled that way purposely in mock of a review I received not too long ago for another story.) and '(stabs Snape)'. But six reviews? Wow. I'm glad you're interested in Lillian, too. Not often I make a well-received OC. Although some of you may hate her henceforth. I do actually have a plan and reason for her behavior. There's a method to my madness, trust me. Enjoy!

* * *

"Good evening, Lillian."

"Indeed." Lillian said. She was already in the break room when even the notoriously early Sarah entered. She was reviewing recently wrapped up cases. "Who was photographing the car in the Johnson case last week?"

"Warrick Brown."

"Dismal." Lillian said with a light sigh. "Has he taken an approved course in Crime Scene Photography?"

"Warrick has been photographing crime scenes since he began. He is very good."

Lillian made a soft noise ofindetermite meaning. "So I see."

Just then, Grissom walked in, somewhat surprised to see Lillian already there, looking over recent files.

"Dr. James." He greeted.

"Mr. Grissom." Lillian replied, not looking up. He retrieved his coffee and retreated to his office.

"So… Lillian. What college did you go to?"

"I'm _fairly_ sure that you know the answer." Lillian raised an eyebrow.

"I'm just trying to make small talk."

"Center for Forensic Studies, at Texas Tech."

"Nice school." Lillian nodded a response, deeming the conversation over.

"Hey, Sarah. Dr. James, I presume?" Warrick had just arrived. Lillian stood up and turned around. She hesitated when she saw Warrick. He extended a hand to shake. Lillian did so and let go very quickly.

"I'm Warrick Brown."

"Ah, yes. The photographer." Lillian said, dusting off her slacks. She avoided looking at him as she sat down. Warrick exchanged a glance with Sarah, who shrugged, and grabbed a cup of coffee.

"Would you like some coffee, Dr James?" He offered.

"No, thank you." Lillian said curtly. "If I want it, Ican get it myself."

"If you say." Warrick said, sipping his coffee. "Ready for your new job?"

"Yes."

"Must be hard, being the youngest person in the building."

"Mm."

Warrick was becoming slightly frustrated.

"Hey, Sarah, how is the Mendel case going?"

"Greg has to test the blood from the knife, but everything else matches up. DA is going to push for murder one."

"Good."

"Miss Sidle, would you mind handing me that file?" Lillian said, pointing to the file on the counter between Warrick and Sarah. Warrick picked it up and handed it to her quicker.

"I asked _Miss Sidle_." Lillian said, taking the file nonetheless. She leafed through it. Warrick shot Sarah a confused, helpless glance. Sarah shrugged.

Just then, Catherine walked in, followed closely by Nick. Nick and Warrick immediately started discussing the football game that was taking place that night, while Sarah asked Catherine how Lindsey was doing.

"You must be Dr. Lillian. I'm Catherine Willows." Catherine said, noticing Lillian and offered a hand. Lillian shook it firmly with a slight smile. "I've heard good things about you."

"Reserve judgment, please, good or bad." Lillian said modestly. Nick stepped forward at this time.

Warrick, on the side, watched with a hint of jealousy as Lillian shook Nick's hand firmly, smiling slightly, as opposed to the cold look and brief shake he had received. Try as he might, he couldn't chalk it up to his apparently _**dismal**_ _photography_. Grissom came in almost at that moment, a grim look on his face.

"Only one case right now. Sarah, wrap up the Mendel case paperwork and get Gregbefore joining us on the scene. Everyone else, we have a triple homicide. I want everyone in the field."

Catherine immediately pulled her keys out of her pocket and took the slip from Grissom. Catherine had to pass through the locker room to get her kit, as did Nick. Lillian snagged her kit from under the table, face impassive, as she went to the parking lot. She climbed into a brand new Jeep.

"Hey, what do you think you're doing?" Catherine called. Lillian almost rolled her eyes.

"I'm driving."

"You're fifteen!"

"I have a special permit. I've had it since last year." Lillian explained. "_Special_ circumstances, you understand."

"Daddy's money…" Catherine couldn't help but mutter. For all she had read, nothing had mentioned the Dr's haughty personality. And what did she have against Warrick? She couldn't miss the way that Lillian had acted towards the gangly CSI. The analytical part of her mind reviewed the handshake she had witnessed through the window and compared it to that she and Nick had recived.

She watched Warrick take his kit from his own SUV and put it in hers, thenclimb into the passenger seatand could see _nothing_ that distinguished him from anyone else, except that he had exceptionally pretty eyes. But who ever heard of someone disliking someone for having pretty _eyes_? She climbed into her car and braced herself for the crime scene they were driving towards.

"Catherine…"

"Yeah?"

"What do you know about Dr. James?"

"_People_ did a biography on her recently. Fifteen years old, three college degrees. She was reading at three. They skipped her up to first grade after a day in kindergarten. Two days later, they jumped her to second. Two _more_ days and they gave her a test, placed her in the fifth grade. She was home schooled from there on out, out of respect for the awkwardness of having a five year old learning alongside ten and eleven year olds. She powered through her school work, finished each class in near record times. It took her three years to fly through grade school. Eight years old, she started taking online college courses."

"Child Prodigy of the most extreme." Warrick said. Catherine nodded.

"Yeah, she was. Once she hit ten, she insisted on going to school at the college. She consistently out-preformed people ten and fifteen years older than her. She graduated last year and entered the workforce as a child psychologist, and a damn successful one at that."

"Makes sense. Who wouldn't rather talk to someone their age?" Warrick said. They reached the edge of the inner city and entered the quiet suburbs.

"Looks like we're about here." Catherine said, pulling up to a house surrounded by police and rescue workers. The jeep that Lillian was driving pulled up behind.

Grissom was already there, ready to give orders. "Catherine, you and Lillian are coming with me inside. Warrick, Nick, perimeter. Officer!" He turned to a nearby officer, who acknowledged him. "When Sarah Sidle arrives, please tell her that she's inside with us. Greg Sanders is on perimeter." He nodded before returning to his clipboard and scribbling something down. Grissom nodded and led Catherine and Lillian inside.

Catherine watched Lillian apprehensively. The first body was in the entrance hall. Mid-thirties, blonde, female, dressed in a pink nightgown and plaid terrycloth robe, covered in blood.

"Hi David. What do we have?" Catherine knelt down.

"Five stab wounds. Dead less than an hour."

"Have you gotten to the ones upstairs?"

"Not yet." David said, standing up.

"Thanks."

Catherine began examining the body, while Grissom looked at the door.

"No sign of forced entry." He announced.

"So she was stabbed as she opened the door for a late-night visitor?" Catherine suggested.

"Likely." Lillian said briskly. She began dusting the doorknob for prints. She liftedone usable print before moving on and dusting the dark hall table.

"What are you dusting the table for?" Catherine asked. Lillian figured out that the veteran CSI was testing her and sighed inwardly.

"You know why."

"You tell me."

"The killer, if entering the house, may have put their hand on the table for support as they stepped over the body, or, if the body was not there at the time, to guide themselves in the dark. Then again to exit, if they used the front door as their exit." Lillian said.

"Or if the body was not there?" Catherine asked.

"Account for all possibilities." Lillian quipped.

"Of course." Catherine smiled slightly. This girl thought things through.

Just then David returned. "Might have a problem with the first theory." He said. "This body was only dead an hour. The two upstairs, in bed, have been dead at least two."

"Ideas?" Catherine looked to Lillian.

"Give me time to formulate a theory." Lillian replied, crossing one arm over her chest and resting her chin on her fist.

"Grissom, I think we found a murder weapon!" They heard Warrick's voice from outside.

"Lillian, go see what he's talking about."

"I'm thinking, send Ms. Willows." Lillian said. Without another word, Catherine stood and left the house.

"Now I know she has something against Warrick…" Catherine muttered as she went out and around to the side of the house .


	3. Act 2: Part ii: Monday Night 9PM::12AM

Greetings! Thanks again for your reviews, they mean a _ton_. There are three people in particular that I would like to address before we move on:

**SueBlue32 –** Cute alliteration, does it mean anything? Thank you for alerting me to my spelling mistake, although a politer turn of phrase would be appreciated.

**Ellie –** Thank you for the compliment, and for telling me about that. My previous source, it appears, was giving me misinformation. I did a little deeper research into it and realized that you are, indeed, correct. I've fixed the summary according to the International High IQ Society's chart, which is as follows:

_70-84_ Well below the population average.

_85-99 _Below the population average, but in the normal range.

_100 _The population average.

_101-115_ Above the population average, but in the normal range.

_116-125_ Significantly above average.

_127-140_ Gifted.

_141-159_ Highly gifted.

_160+_ Profoundly gifted.

_180+_ Universal genius.

**Mickey – **Thank you for reminding me. You may find that I will accidentally switch off between the two, actually. I have known at least five 'Sara's in my life and not one has spelled their name 'Sara' that I am aware of, so it's kind of ingrained you know? Thanks!

**TO EVERYONE ELSE**:_ If you would like to test your own IQ, simply Google search "IQ". Both Tickle and the International High IQ Society have online intelligence tests that I find quite accurate (judging by my experience taking them next to a professionally administered test)_

I appreciate your willingness to forgive my oversights, as I quite obviously do not have an IQ as high as the character's I'm writing about. Also, I should post a slight **_AU_** warning. The team is still/back together, Sara and Catherine are not fighting, and what the heck is this I hear about Eddie being dead? O.o; Greg is split between the field and the lab on occasion, hence his participation in the perimeter sweep here. Any improper jargon is my own fault, naturally, as is any bad grammar. There's a _reason_ I've fail two English classes to date. Anyway. Love to you all!

**Note:** I'm sorry for the lengthy author's notes, it won't happen again :_huggles everyone:_

Oh, and I **_disclaim_** any and all rights to everyone except Dr. Lillian James. Thank you. :bows:

* * *

"Cath, what do you make of this?" Warrick said, pointing at the hammer laying on the ground. Catherine knelt down to examine what looked like a dark rust. A sweep with her flashlight reveled dried blood. 

"Bag it. It might not be our murder weapon, they were stabbed, but blood is blood." She stood up and turned around to find Sara and Greg arriving.

"How does it look?" Sara asked, jogging up. Catherine shook her head.

"The one dead at the door was killed an hour after the two upstairs in bed."

"That's odd. I'll go check it out."

"Greg's on perimeter with Nick and Warrick." Catherine said. Greg nodded and went to find Nick, who was closer to the back of the house.

Sara stepped gingerly inside the house, avoiding stepping in the puddle of blood that nearly stretched across the foyer.

"Catherine says that we've got an odd situation with the bodies." Sara said.

"Yes, we do." Grissom acknowledged. "The bodies upstairs have been dead longer than this one here."

"She said. What does that mean?"

"That's what the evidence is going to tell us."

"Mr. Grissom?"

"Yes?" Grissom turned to glance into the kitchen, where Lillian was. She skimmed her flashlight over the counter where five knives were neatly laid out in order.

"Who lays their knives like this? And I smell sodium hypochlorite. A lot of it."

"They cleaned up, then." Grissom said. He walked into the kitchen and looked around. Two tall Gatorade bottles were balanced precariously on a toilet paper tubes in the sink.

"What's that?" He asked.

"I haven't gotten there yet." Lillian said sharply. "I just came in, I can't examine an entire kitchen in two minutes. I can tell you that they were very organized about their cutlery, though." She waved to the perfectly lined up and laid out silverware drawer. "And it smells clean. Like a hospital pool house."

"Keep working. Sara and I are going upstairs. Catherine will be in the bedroom."

Lillian stood in the silent kitchen, eyes scanning everything again for something out of place. She made her way over to the sink to examine the setup. She quirked her head to the side as she noticed the smell. She wrinkled her nose.

"Willows!" She called into the living room. "I've got potentially dangerous chemicals here!" She reached out to take them off their perch before they could be felled by a passing plane overhead.

She heard a knock on the kitchen door. She turned around to find Greg's face in the window, waving. Lillian rolled her eyes. The door opened noiselessly.

"How are you today, Dr. James? Back door was left unlocked and opens quietly."

"Point of entry? Just process the scene, Mr. Sanders." Lillian said, picking the bottles off their perch. She held it up and fanned her hand over the mouth of the bottle.

"Ammonia." She chocked slightly. She set the bottle in a less precarious potion on the counter and picked up the other. "And bleach." She examined the tubes that were holding the bottles up. "And fishing line."

She followed the line up through a few small eyehooks in the ceiling to the refrigerator.

"Now why didn't I catch this?" She asked herself, glad that she examined the sink before the refrigerator. She opened it and watched at the taut line pulled and knocked over the cylinders. She shuddered slightly to think of what would happen if she had opened the door before taking the chemicals out of the sink.

She slowly scanned the refrigerator, still searching for anything the least bit out of place. All she discovered was that they seemed to like foreign food.

"You have anything?" Catherine asked, walking into the kitchen.

"Spanish Rice, fresh exotic fruits, four kinds of French cheese, three bottles of Italian wine in various stages of empty, Teriyaki, Onigiri, Wasabi, a jar of… vegemite…" Lillian sighed. "They like foreign food. None of it is take-out."

"Vegemite? Where the heck did they get that?" Catherine asked.

"Same place they got packaged onigiri. They must travel a lot." Lillian said, pointing to the authentic Japanese packaging.

"Onigiri? That green triangle thing? How do you know?"

"O… ni… gi… ri." She said, pointing out the Japanese characters. "I took a basic course when I was nine." She explained to Catherine's odd look. "That's aside the point entirely, anyway."

"So we have three dead, one by the door later than the one upstairs, some bottles rigged to the refrigerator poised to set off noxious gases… And a ton of foreign food. No prints that I can find… Let's hope Sara and Grissom have something we don't."

-

"Oh, lovely. Castoff all over…" Sara said, staring at the walls. The bodies were positioned serenely on the bed, laying straight with their hands folded on their chests.

"They look like they're ready for their funerals already." Grissom said as he set his kit down. They began to process the scene, speaking little and working quickly. Sara photographed things here and there, but overall (aside from the blood) the room was clean, neat and tidy.

"I don't think there's much left here. Our killer was thorough." Sara said after almost an hour. She glanced out the street-facing window. One cop car was left, as well as Catherine's car, and a Jeep she didn't recognize. After a moment, she saw Lillian walking to the jeep.

"Lillian is only 15. How does she have a license?"

"Special permit for working teens." Grissom said briskly. "I had to sign a form for her to get it. Pack it up, let's get all this to the lab."

"Alright."

--

"No, I can't… It's very bad form, we're in the middle of a case, and--… I already said. Look, I'll call you back at break, but Im not goi—" Lillian flipped her cell phone shut with a light huff when she heard the abrupt click on the other end. She tossed it into the passenger seat on top of her scene kit.

"Who was that?" Catherine asked as she passed the car.

"Personal." Lillian replied shortly. She turned the key in the ignition, glanced up and down the street, checked her mirrors and took off for the lab.

Catherine brushed it off and went to her own Tahoe. She was ready to get back to the lab. The already dark sky was overcast and she didn't want to even think about rain. She chuckled lightly when she realized that Lillian would probably have to pull over to put the cover up on her jeep.

Greg, Nick and Warrick had finished up outside ten minutes prior and were gone. Sara would catch a lift back with Grissom, naturally. Catherine slipped a CD into the player and tried to relax on her way back to the lab.

She tried and failed. While Lillian was on her mind, she couldn't help it. Why did the girl resent Warrick so much? She ran trough her head every single thing that separated Warrick from everyone else.

"Pretty eyes, ex-gambler, but how would she know that…? Tall… Really sweet, soft spot for kids. What could she possibly find wrong with him?" Catherine mused. She honestly could see nothing that separated him in a negative manner.

She pulled into the lab and focused her mind back on the case.

--

"New case just came in, very easy." Grissom said. "Dr. James, I think you can handle it on your own. Hit and run just off the strip."

Lillian looked up from her papers. Various DNA printouts, a tox report, and a few others. She nodded silently and stood. She handed the folder and papers to Grissom before leaving.

She left the building quickly and made it to her car. She took a deep, calming breath.

"No big deal, it's just a hit and run. That I'm working solo on my first night." She groaned softly. "What I wouldn't give for high school. Just once." She said, firing up her jeep and rolling out of the parking lot. She pulled up, not ten minutes later, to the scene. She approached the officer on the scene.

"Dr. James, I'm with the Crime Lab."

"So you're the new CSI everyone has been raving about, are you?" The man said with a grin. He reminded her vaguely of the man that she went to for strength training for her physical education credit two years ago. "Sergeant O'Reily, I'm with homicide." He stuck a hand out to shake. Lillian took it. "Body's over here. Witnesses say that he literally was knocked off his feet by a sports car. May have been a corvette, they were more concerned with the victim to make sure note. He apparently rolled over the top, bounced up off the spoiler and landed. The diver didn't even slow."

"Thank you, Sergeant." Lillian said, looking over at the body. It was laying in the middle of the street, crumpled in a heap. "You're with Homicide, you say? What makes anyone thing this is a homicide? Looks to me like a negligent driver who thinks he can get away with killing a man…." She scanned the scene. "Until you notice the skid marks as they swerved to hit the poor man on purpose." She amended. O'Reily nodded.

"Witness said that he was in his own lane, and that the man was walking in the other. The car swerved into the lane where the man was walking."

"So we're looking at a murder, not an ordinary hit and run." Lillian deadpanned as she began marking and taking pictures of the scene, skid marks, body and then some. She collected several pieces of what appeared to be a broken headlight, then allowed the coroner to take the body away as she continued processing.

"Is it the least bit odd, watching a mere teenager process a scene almost as efficiently as Gil Grissom would?" An officer nearby asked O'Reily. O'Reily shrugged.

"You haven't heard about this girl? Three degrees in various scientific subjects, almost countless seminars and short courses in just about everything related to the forensic and psychological business. She's a child prodigy of the highest order. No wonder LVPD snapped her up the moment she announced that she was looking into the field."

Nearby, Lillian heard every word. Inwardly, she seethed at these people, rattling off facts about her as if they _knew_ her. Almost like she was a commodity of sorts.

She returned to the lab, dropped off some stuff at Trace and went to the break room.

She refrained from sighing as everyone was in there, eating lunch. She went to the refrigerator and pulled out a brown bag. Sitting on a chair in the corner, she pulled out a bottled smoothie and a small bag of almonds. She ate them quietly, waiting for the page telling her that trace was finished with her things, or that the AV lab had processed her photographs for her to refer back to.

"Lillian, why don't you sit with us?" Sara offered. Lillian looked up, startled.

"No, thank you." She said somewhat shortly. She stood, ignoring the curious looks, and left the break room.

"She's a weird one." Greg said, balancing a small chunk of his re-heated meatloaf on the back of his spoon before he ate it. Sara raised an eyebrow.

"And you aren't?" Nick teased.

Lillian worked in the lab, processing and testing samples gathered from the homicide earlier in the evening. Soon, the results for a test from the triple homicide were printing. She debated leaving them there for Greg to take, but decided to deliver them to Grissom immediately anyway. Greg chose that moment to walk it, relieving Lillian of the decision anyway.

"Mr. Sanders, take this to Mr. Grissom. Semen analysis, it appears, from the homicide earlier this evening."

Greg scanned the printouts, groaning loudly. "Two donors!" He asked.

"I know I'm no longer working that one, but would it be possible that the woman by the door was an accomplice in the murder of the two upstairs? Then the second male killed her to tie up loose ends?" Lillian suggested.

"Thanks…" Greg looked at her, eyebrow raised. She didn't see, though, because she was buried back in work. He walked out, muttering "Odd indeed."


	4. Act 2: Part iii: Tuesday Morn 1AM::3AM

Hehehe… I was wondering when the _Mary-Sue_ accusation was going to crop up. Thank you, **Kate K**, for having the decency to log in, and for taking the time to write out your critique:hugs:

May I, however, have the opportunity to defend my character? A Mary-Sue, by the definition I understand (the one that you, coincidentally, gave), is a character who is pretty, perfect, gets along with everyone, is nice to everyone, is loved by everyone and is better than everyone.

Well… For one, Dr. James has not had the chance to show all sides of herself. _**Yes**,_ she seems _bossy_. **_Yes_**, she seems a _Know-It-All._ That's because she **_IS_**. She's fifteen and working at the Number 2 Crime Lab in the country, of_ course_ she's going to be a bit arrogant and conceited. Quite honestly, what do you expect? If the premise of this story is going to work, the readers are going to have to make allowances for my own personal creative liberty. It's, as you pointed out, FAN fiction. Yes, the focus is supposed to be the "regular" characters (What's with putting 'regular' in quotes, anyway? They _are_ the regular characters.), but the other point is to develop your own story using the characters and setting, and if that means making new characters, well, it's my own prerogative. As for dominating the scene, she's the main conflict in this story, as opposed to the show's major conflict of the crimes, however, naturally the 'regular' character's problems will be paralleled to the conflict. Therefore, as the conflict, of course Dr. James will be talked about in most scenes.

"She insists on driving"? No one asked her to accompany them in their own cars, so of course she's going to drive her own(I did mention that she got her license at _14_, implicitly) And as far as knowing her way around Las Vegas… I've heard that GPS systems are quite handy. Part of reading is being able to have the imagination to fill in the blanks. You see Grissom at a scene, then you see him at the lab. 'Oh, did he teleport? No, he must have driven there! Wow! I used logical reasoning!' See? Apply that to Dr. James, here: 'Wow, she knows the way! She must be psychic! No, wait… I bet she has a navigation system!'

Another point refers back to the "Mary Sue" herself. Where do I say she's incredibly beautiful? Greg's thought that she should be in a magazine? Methinks someone reads too much into that comment. It was referring to the fact that she was coordinated perfectly. Unless I'm mistaken (and I don't think I am), I haven't really set forth a good description of Dr. James, have I? She wore a crimson and beige suit with ruby accessories on Saturday, and today she is wearing slacks and a blouse. I haven't even mentioned what color Dr. James's hair is, now, have I?

Whether you find it believable or not, it _is_ my story, and I appreciate you taking the time to read and critique it nonetheless. If it really is as bad of a Mary-Sue as you say, it must have taken a lot of guts to stomach it, and for that I thank you.

((although, my friend Korimi-chan says: "Yea…you idiot… Hey, make sure you tell her that anything I say shouldn't and wont be held against you in a court of law but can and should be held against me instead lol" – directly quoted. Her ff.n penname is 'padfootlet', if you should take her up on that offer.))

Thanks for sticking with me, those of you who have! I appreciate it more than you'll _ever_ know. And sorry for the lengthy authors note. I wasn't aware that I would be having to make my case again. **_Gomen nasi, faithful reviewers!

* * *

_**

"How is the hit and run going?" Grissom asked. Lillian was sitting at the table in the break room, flipping through pictures, double-checking her notes and examining the autopsy report.

"Well enough. Cause of death was, naturally, head trauma and shock. Probably killed the second he hit the pavement. Headlight pieces confirm eyewitness report. 1989 Chevy Corvette. Paint chip collected from the victim's belt buckle indicates that it was red. APB put out for red corvette, possibly dented front end, an officer called one in parked in a bar lot, it's being towed as we speak." Lillian rattled off. At her hip, her pager buzzed. She stood up, gathering her things. "And that will be the garage, telling me that it's in. Good day."

She left quickly.

Grissom helped himself to a cup of coffee, leafing through their recent homicide papers.

"Hey, Gris, Brass just called. They've got Alice Mason's brother in for questioning. He was called to identify his sister and Doc Robbins noticed blood on his shirt." Sara poked her head in.

"I'll be there in five minutes." Grissom said, going back to his office. Sara nodded and went back towards the interrogation rooms on the other end of the building.

--

"Joseph Mason." Brass said, dropping a folder on the table. "Previous for assault. How would you happen to have blood on your shirt the night of your sister's murder?"

"You forgot to mention Margaret and Daniel." Joseph said calmly. "They're dead, too."

"Yes, they are." Brass raised an eyebrow. "How would you know?"

"Margaret was my girlfriend, I saw her in the autopsy place." He said coolly. "And if Margaret and Alice are dead, either that bastard Daniel is, too, or he's the killer. He hasn't got the balls to kill a man, so I assume he's dead."

"Awfully simple logic."

"Whatever. Can I go?"

"Not until we clear you. You have blood on you shirt, in case you didn't notice."

"Hey, I got into a bar fight."

"Of course. We'll confirm that. Give me your shirt."

"Give me a court order."

"That can be arranged." Brass said, standing up.

--

"Hey, Lillian. Are you going to catch breakfast with us this morning?" Warrick asked casually, supervising Lillian's processing of the candy-apple-red Corvette at Grissom's request.

"No."

"Why not? We usually get together."

"I don't." Lillian said shortly. She rolled out from under the bumper, tweezers holding up a small bit of what appeared to be jean fabric. She tucked it in an envelope. She then collected her swabs of blood from the spoiler, cotton fibers from the windshield wipers, and photographs and left the garage, Warrick following, somewhat bewildered.

--

"I'm being nice, not critical or skeptical, I trust that she knows what she's doing, and she blows me off!"

"I've wondered on that myself…"

Catherine and Warrick were sitting in the break room, looking over some phone records for both the Sweetney household and the Mason households.

"I can't find anything that she could be holding against you." Catherine sighed, highlighting another instance of the Mason's number on the Sweetney's list.

"Gambling?"

"How would she know, she just started working tonight."

"It's the only thing I can think of. It's not like it's a massively hidden secret, maybe she researched her co-workers before she came."

"Possible."

"She acts like she owns the lab. Typical teenaged brat." Sara said, entering the conversation on the way to the coffee pot. "Have you _seen_ her in there?"

"No, I haven't." Catherine said, looking up. "Why?"

"Well, have you noticed anything different?"

"How would I, if I haven't been at the lab?"

"It may be hard, but be really quiet for a moment." Sara said wryly. Catherine raised an eyebrow and exchanged a glance with Warrick. "What _don't _you hear?"

Recognition dawned on both faces.

"Greg's music is missing." Warrick said. Sara nodded a confirmation.

"You should have seen her when she visited on Saturday. She picked a pencil up from UNDER the desk and told Greg that it was a safety hazard. She's got everything in there labeled, coded, sorted, straightened up and silent." Sara said. "It's almost scary, Greg is sitting quietly as his desk, _working_ diligently. Or pretending to, at least."

"Wow. And she's only 15." Catherine shook her head. "Warrick, I'll run these up to Brass, he's still got the victim's brother in custody, waiting for the blood analysis on the shirt."

"Alright."

"Catch you later." She said, leaving. There was silence for a few moments as Sara flipped through the photographs from the scene and Warrick sat back, thinking.

"What is it?"

"What is what?"

"Lillian can't stand me. You saw her at the beginning of shift. Catherine's noticed. Why does she seem to dislike me?"

"Maybe she's afraid of older men? Then again, it could be like I said earlier, she's just a know-it-all brat."

"After the bold handshake she gave Nick, I don't think it's the first."

Sara looked him up and down. "You're the same as any of us, I don't know what it is. Gambling history? Or (again) she just thinks she's above associating with any of us. She hasn't exactly been a basket of roses to me, either."

Warrick sighed heavily, shaking his head. "I'll figure it out. In the meantime, we _are_ on a case."

--

"Detective?" Lillian approached Brass. "I have here the evidence to warrant the arrest of Aaron Simon in the hit and run case. The Victim's clothing fibers on his car, dent, paint on the victims belt buckle matches the paint from the car exactly, headlights found at the scene."

"That would give us manslaughter." Brass said. "Anything to indicate that this was any more?"

"Nothing except the tire tracks and eyewitness account." Lillian sighed. "I've been over it many times, I can't find the physical evidence to support anything else."

"It's alright, Lillian." Brass said, taking the folder. "It's up to the DA now. Good work for your first case."

Lillian nodded mutely. She took a deep breath. "Thank you." She said. She bowed slightly and walked away, eyes trained on the floor.

--

"Yes, I'm finished with my case… hit and run… yes, I'm fine… No, I won't quit… Honestly, it was a dead body. You expect me to freak out about it? I never knew the person… Of course, I apologize…" Lillian sighed into the phone. She stood out on the sidewalk in front of the Lab, talking into her small silver phone. "My what? My Co-workers? Well, there's Miss Sidle, Mr. Sanders, Mr. Stokes, Mrs. Willows, Mr. Grissom, Mr. Brown… Yes, of course they're nice… …I see… Well, whatever the case, I should get back inside in case they need me. I'll be home around seven, maybe eight… Well, that's dependant on whether I go out to breakfast or not… No, waffles will not entice me home faster. Goodnight, mother."

Lillian sighed deeply and calmly. She turned and went back into the building. She went to the lab, deciding that there was nothing better to calm the nerves that concentrating on some analysis or another.

"There you are. Would you mind running a comparison on these?" Greg held up two swabs as she came in. Lillian almost sighed with relief as she began processing them.

--


	5. Act 2: Part iv: Tuesday Morn 5:30AM

I'm so incredibly sorry for the wait! You see… I revised this chapter maybe five times, and I couldn't get it to work. I'm still not entirely happy with it, but… You guys deserve to know that I'm not dead, although with school starting soon I may as well be. 9.9 Anyway, This chapter is mostly character development for Lillian, introducing her family and getting a little deeper than "She doesn't like Warrick and she's bossy." Oh, and I actually provide a physical description for her!

Thank you for your patience!

* * *

"Do you get out at all during the day, Lillian?" Greg asked abruptly. Lillian didn't look up, despite being startled almost out of her wits. 

"I have a night job." She said, as if it explained everything.

"Yeah, but even Sara goes jogging in the morning, and Catherine visits the tanner once in a while. You look pale as milk."

Lillian tensed up inexplicably. "Process, Mr. Sanders. My skin tone is not your business." She said, a cold edge in her voice that Greg hadn't yet heard. He was surprised into obeying.

After a few more moments of silence, Greg stretched his arms heavenward as the printer whirred. "This is the last of the lab stuff needed. I'll run it to Grissom. Shift is over soon, are you coming with us to breakfast?"

"I already told Mr. Brown no."

"Are you sure? There's this nice diner we head to, really good food." Greg said, scanning the printout.

"No." Lillian said. "I promised my mother I'd be home by 8."

"You can still make it home." Greg pointed out. "Shift ends at 6, you could eat and be home in another hour."

"How many letters are in the word 'no'? There's not too much to misunderstand. I gave my response, do not push me."

"If you're sure…"

"I am, Mr. Sanders. Mr. Grissom will want those printouts."

"Speak of the devil and he shall appear." Greg quoted as Grissom poked his head into the lab. "Here you go, Gris, I've got these finished."

"Good, leave them on my desk. Dr. James?"

"Yes, sir?"

"Are you coming to breakfast?" He asked, flipping through a folder that he had with him.

"No." Lillian replied.

"Suit yourself. I do suggest that you take the team up on their offer at least once, though.

"Yes, sir." Lillian sighed. She glanced at the clock. Ten minutes until shift ended. She sat at her desk, reviewing several papers for ten minutes before she stood up and left without another word.

--

Lillian pulled up to her house at 6:50 with a deep sigh. The modest, two-story house was tan with brown trim. The only thing extraordinary was the solar cell shingles, but the casual observer would simply think that they were insane for having a black roof in the middle of the desert. Lillian climbed out of the car and went to the front door of the house. She quickly unlocked it and stepped inside, looking around for any sign of her family.

She heard a loud yapping getting louder as their Shih-Tzu/Poodle mix, Olive, came sliding around the corner, crashing into the wall before regaining traction on the hardwood floor and attacking Lillian's feet.

"Morning, Olive." She picked the tiny dog up and carried him into the kitchen. Her mother sat at the table, red-eyed and messy-haired.

"Good morning, mother." Lillian said, refraining from laughing at the sight of her usually prim mother in such a state. Her mom jumped up to greet her, hugging her.

"How was your first day? Are you okay, you didn't get hurt? Didn't get sick? Are you sure you're fine?"

"Mother, I told you on the phone, I'm fine. Did you stay up all night?" Her mother didn't respond. "Go to bed, I'll make breakfast for Alexandria and Thomas and get them off to school."

"Thank you, dear." She kissed Lillian on the forehead and left the kitchen. Lillian looked around the kitchen, suddenly lost.

"Okay… How should I do this?" She asked Olive. Olive yapped cheerfully.

--

"Alex! Calm down! Shush, Mom and dad are asleep!"

"Lilli!"

"You too, Tom!"

"Lilli, he put coco puffs in my lucky charms!"

"Only because you put sugar in my rice krispies yesterday!"

"Like they're any good otherwise!" Alexandria stuck her tongue out at her older brother.

Lillian sighed, sitting back and looking at the mess her siblings had made. Cereal all over the floor, milk all over the counters… she was thankful that neither of them were messy.

She took a moment to study her siblings, almost shocked to realize that she had never done so before. Thomas was skinny, with dark hair that he got from his father. His mother's brown eyes grinned mischievously at anyone and everyone. His more conservative sister shared Lillian's light brown hair (most likely from their grandmother, since their parents both had fairly dark hair) and green eyes taken from their father.

"Are you guys done?" Lillian asked. She knew better than to ask them to help clean up, that would wind up in soap suds all over the kitchen. She knew from experience.

"Yup! Will you walk with us down to the bus stop?" Alex asked. Tom looked disgusted.

"Yuck! I don't want my _sister_ to walk me to the bus stop!" He cried. Lillian laughed.

"I'll do it just for that." She said, grinning. She slipped on a pair of flip-flops and grabbed the kid's back-packs. "I have your book-bags!" She said, walking out the front door. The nine and eleven year olds followed her out, laughing and racing down the street. They stopped at the end where a woman stood with her own daughter. Lillian rolled her eyes as Alex and the other girl, a classmate apparently, started talking and laughing together. Lillian stopped as she got closer to the stop and recognized the woman.

"Lindsey, you HAVE to meet my big sister! She used to be off at college because she's really, really smart, but she's back so she can walk me to the bus stop now!" Alex said, dragging the blonde girl over. The girl's mom looked up and met Lillian's eyes.

"Lilli, I want you to meet my best friend in the entire world, Lindsey. Linds, this is my big sister Lillian."

"Very nice to meet you, Miss Lillian." Lindsey said, smiling.

"Nice to meet you, too, Lindsey." She said kindly. No helping it now, she had to be nice to the kid.

"Dr. James! Fancy meeting you here." Catherine smiled. "Alex and Tom have been bragging about their sister for a while now, I never expected this."

"I have not…" Tom muttered.

"Indeed." Lillian said, nodding. Mercifully, the bus pulled up just then. "Go on, Alex, Tom. Be quiet when you get home, I'm going to be sleeping then, remember."

"Okay, Lilli!" Alex grinned and bounced onto the bus after Lindsey.

The bus pulled away and left the two older women standing there. Well, woman and teen, rather.

"Would you like to come over for coffee before you head off to sleep?" Catherine offered. "You didn't have breakfast with us."

"No, thank you. I let them leave a mess in the kitchen." Lillian said, at once thankful that she didn't have to lie her way out of it. "And Mother would wonder where I am." She nodded a goodbye and walked off. Catherine shrugged.

"Alright. Another time?"

"We'll see." Lillian said, sighing. As she walked down the sidewalk she came to regret the hasty decision more and more. Catherine was a nice person, why she couldn't just accept a cup of coffee and a nice chat with her was beyond Lillian's grasp. She shook her head to rid it of her thoughts as she opened the door. She bypassed the coffee maker and began slowly cleaning up the kitchen.


	6. Act 3: Part i: Tuesday Night 8PM

I know, I know! It's been forever. You guys are awesome to have waited for me. School's been… not fun, I had something that came quite close to a breakdown, homework has been plaguing me day and night, and my cousin won't let me quit tap class, so yeah.

But I'm sure you don't want to hear about my problems, so I'll let you get on to enjoying the problems of our heroes…

There's no excuse whatsoever for the complete and utter lack of content in this chapter, but my yet immature mind told me I should update before everyone think's I've been wiped off the face of the earth. Depending on reviewer response, I'll either replace this chapter later (possibly anwyhere freom 2-6 weeks) or I'll just geep going and leave this as simply a short chapter.

* * *

Lillian slept deeply, unheeding of her siblings return home. When she finally jerked awake at six, prompted by the chirping of her alarm clock. She slammed it off, got up and dressed, and went to join her family for dinner. 

After a hearty meal of pork steak, mashed potatoes, gravy and peas, she settled down, setting a timer so she wouldn't miss work, and read.

Just as the timer went off at seven thirty, she heard a knock at the door.

"Who is that at this hour?" Her mother asked, standing to let the person in. Lillian was surprised when, minutes later, she re-entered with Catherine Willows.

"Hi, Lillian." She said, grinning in her motherly way. "Sorry for dropping in unexpectedly, but I didn't have your number yet. Since we live in the same neighborhood, I was thinking that we could carpool to work and save a bit on gas."

Lillian was somewhat shocked, but agreed. "Sure," She began, "I'll just need to grab my stuff out of the Jeep."

"Not a problem." Catherine said.

"Oh! I'm sorry… Mom, this is Catherine Willows, CSI. She's a couple ranks ahead of me. Mrs. Willows, My mom, Melody James."

"Nice to meet you, Mrs. Willows."

"Likewise." Catherine said, shaking Melody's hand.

There was a slightly uncomfortable pause before Catherine nodded. "We should get going." She said. Lillian nodded, hugged her mother goodbye and went out the front door.

She went to her Jeep and took her kit out of the back, placed it carefully in the backseat of Catherine's Tahoe and climbed in the passenger seat. She shifted uncomfortably.

"Dr. James…" Catherine began. Once she was sure she had Lillian's attention, she continued. "Grissom wanted me to pick you up, actually." She said honestly. Lillian looked a the strawberry-blonde. "I don't think I should keep anything from you if you're going to work in this lab effectively with us." Catherine went on. "So I'm telling you as a friend."

"I understand." Lillian said, slightly curtly. She caught herself, paused, and added: "Thank you."

"No problem." Catherine said. Lillian sat back and watched the suburbs fade into the city. They pulled into the gated parking lot and climbed out, heading in to the locker room.

"Hey." Nick and Greg greeted simultaneously.

"Hi guys." Catherine said as she opened her locker to hang up her sweater. Lillian hung back, edging her way around the group.

"Mr. Sanders, shift starts in five minutes, I expect you'll be in the lab by then?" she said, although the command lacked the frost with which Greg had last heard he speak. She walked out of the locker room. Shortly thereafter, Sara walked in.

"Hey, guys, you remember the food we found in the refrigerator? Lillian assumed that they traveled a lot but credit check revealed that no plane tickets of any sort have been bought anytime recently, although it did reveal several purchases at a foreign foods store. We looked into it a bit more, Daniel and Margaret Sweetney's uncle owns the store. He was given custody of the two nineteen years ago when their mother committed suicide."

"Do you think it's probative?" Nick asked, shrugging on his vest.

"I don't know." Sara shrugged. "It could be."

* * *

"Lillian." Grissom called out to the girl as she passed by his office, papers in hand.

"Yes, Mr. Grissom?" she asked, stopping.

"You'll be joining us for breakfast this morning, correct?" Grissom asked. Lillian's mind analyzed the situation, remembering the heads-up that Catherine had given her. She had been left without a vehicle to escape in. Mentally, she groaned.

"Of course." She said with a sigh. "You leave me no choice, don't you?"

"There are two primary choices in life; to accept conditions as they exist, or accept the responsibility for changing them."

"Waitley." Lillian nodded. She sighed. "I'll see you in the morning, then." She turned and left, debating whether to hide a scowl or a smile.


End file.
